What You Do
by Kylara Kitsune
Summary: Sitting by his bedside, Hermione tells an unconscious Charlie what she wants.


**AN: Prompt 8 from the 30 breathtakes challenge - "you're good at what you do".**

The way you look at me like there's nobody else in the world you could imagine being with; like you want me, right here, right now and nothing else will be soon enough. The way you hold me, wrapping me in your arms as though I'm something delicate that needs protecting from the cruel world outside. The way you kiss me, eyes closed, lips warm and soft against mine. The way you touch me, teasing me, then blazing heated trails all over my body and making me lose control of myself. The way you slide into me and cause both of us to forget everything except each other and how our movements feel. The way you love me, forever and always.

You're good at what you do, Charlie Weasley, better than good. Words can't describe the way I feel, not completely, though I'm going to try.

It's been three weeks since I got the owl from your colleagues, saying you'd been injured by a dragon. It was the first time in years, they said, completely confounded as to how it happened. I cancelled everything I was supposed to be doing and managed to get a portkey out here - you couldn't be moved, the injuries were too severe. Since then, I've been sitting here, in this hideous upholstered chair next to your hospital bed, waiting for you to open your eyes, tell everyone you're fine and ask when you can get back to work.

The Healers have told me to talk to you, which I've been doing. I've told you everything I can about what I was doing before your accident, related every adventure I can think of from my Hogwarts days, told you what I did during the war, even. I've run out of stories, Charlie. So what I'm going to do is tell you what I want you to do to me, whenever you wake up and are well enough. I hope you're listening to me, despite (or perhaps because) I can't do this when you're awake. I just can't get the words out of my mouth.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

I want it to be a warm, sunny day, when we can laze around in the garden, without worrying about who's around or who can hear us. I'd be wearing a bikini, and you'd be in shorts, lying on the grass under the weeping cherry tree that was the reason we bought that particular house. You look at me with those eyes of yours, a gaze that seems to look right into the depths of my mind, a mind that's nowhere near as dirty as yours, though it's definitely getting there, and I know, without so much as a word being said, that you want me like you've never wanted anyone. It's a look that says "kiss me, touch me, undress me and have your wicked way with me".

You'll run your hand down my back, then tweak the straps of my bikini top before unfastening it and throwing it away from us. The only time I'm not self-conscious about my looks is when I'm with you. You tell me I'm gorgeous and I almost believe it, so you must be doing something right to convince me of that fact. Pulling me round so I'm sitting in front of you, my back to your chest, your fingers start to play with my breasts as you're murmuring in my ear.

"Hermione, sweetheart... Do you know what you do to me? What would you do if I said I wanted to fuck you, now, push you down on your hands and knees and take you from behind, make you scream my name so loud all the neighbours can hear you over the silencing charms? You want it, don't you, Hermione? You want me to slide my cock into you, to make you come again and again, so that everyone knows you're mine. What would you say, Hermione?"

"Charlie... take me, I'm yours."

So you do exactly what you promised. Before I know what's happening, my bikini bottoms have disappeared, possibly Banished, I don't know, and you're pressing into me without any hesitation. Your husky moan as you do so turns me on even more, making me clutch at the newly cut grass under my fingers. You're good at this, Charlie, we've always been good together, even that first time, when I expected everything to be awkward and painful. It wasn't, it didn't hurt at all, and now it's just pure heaven.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"You're good at what you do, Charlie Weasley, so how the hell did you let that dragon get the better of you?" It's his boss, the owner of the reserve.

"Guess I just wasn't paying enough attention." Charlie, having woken up about an hour ago, is completely unapologetic. He speaks his mind, whoever he's talking to; he's never been any different.

"Well, next time, be more careful!"

"I will, don't worry about that." He squeezes my hand and smiles. "Hermione'll kill me herself if I don't."


End file.
